


phenomenal kitten

by parrishsrubberplant (genus_species)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: A Wild Kitten Appears, All good relationships have a decent flirt-to-roast ratio, Best Friends, Companionable Snark, Just Add Kittens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genus_species/pseuds/parrishsrubberplant
Summary: David and Patrick find a stay kitten in the wall of Rose Apothecary.Thanks toDizzyRedheadfor beta!Hope you enjoy!





	phenomenal kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endemictoearth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endemictoearth/gifts).



David Rose is usually having a crisis about something. He’s sensitive, high-strung, and adorably close to his high-drama actress mother. Between the two of them, crises are more usual than not.

However, it’s Tuesday. Stevie has never known David to have a full-on hand-wringing crisis on Tuesday in the middle of business hours. Something about being behind the counter of the store does something for his anxiety--turns it off, maybe, or turns it down. It might also be Patrick, who is wildly brilliant at hysterical David-wrangling.

Hysterical is the wrong word, she thinks. Histrionic.

The bell jingles as Stevie pushes the shop door open. “I’ve come for more of that lotion,” she announces. David isn’t at the counter. Maybe he’s gone into the back? She taps on the bell at the counter and it chimes brightly. “David?”

David comes out of the back. “Stevie,” he says. “How long does it take for rabies to set in?”

She backs away automatically. “What? Did something bite you?”

“No,” David says. He leans forward. “I’ve been hearing things.”

“Oh, that’s never a good sign,” she says. “What kinds of things? Ghostly voices? I heard this building was haunted, but I never believed it.”

“Stevie!”

“I was being serious,” she insists. Then, with a bit more sympathy, “What’s going on?”

David beckons her behind the counter. “Come here,” he says. Stevie follows him into the back. There’s a small desk made of a board over two filing cabinets, a plank-bottomed chair for a desk chair, and a tatty armchair. It’s probably where David and Patrick make out. There’s also a set of large metal shelves full of cardboard boxes labeled in Patrick’s neat handwriting. 

“Do you hear that?”

She shakes her head. “Hear what?”

“Oh, it stopped,” David says. He grabs Stevie’s arm, suddenly and hard. “Hear _that_!” he insists.

It’s a scrabbling, scratching noise, and it’s coming from the wall.

“Is it a bat?” David asks. “A raccoon? A squirrel? Oh my god, I’m too young and beautiful to die of a deadly virus.”

“For sure,” Stevie agrees. “Have you called animal control?”

David’s mouth twists. He’s probably thinking that he’s an idiot, and she doesn’t have time for this self-pity. Stevie takes his arm and drags him back to the front of the store. He might be missing customers. As they leave the back room, she hears the scrabbling, scratching sound again.

“It sounds too big to be a bat,” Stevie says.

“Oh good,” David says. “It’s big. Then it could be a raccoon.”

“Or a bear,” she says seriously. “Or a moose.”

“Stevie! This is a crisis! If it’s a rabid wild animal, when it chews through the wall and bites me I could actually die,” David says.

Stevie curls her fingers against the soft flannel of her cuffs. “I’m going to look up the number for animal control,” she announces. “Then you’re going to call them while I walk around to the back of the building and see where and how this critter of yours could have gotten in. Okay?”

David slides a pen and a pad of paper across the counter wordlessly. Stevie opens Google and waits for her search results to load. Then she writes the number down on the paper. The bell tinkles behind her as she leaves the shop.

She walks around the side of the building, orienting herself to the inside of the shop. That’s where the open shelves are. The counter is on the other side. Did the back room have a tiny window? she wonders. And what are they planning to do with the top floor, anyway? Make it into a disgustingly cute apartment? Use it for storage? There’s probably not that much space up there.

There aren’t any gaps in the brick that she can see. She isn’t tall enough to reach up and touch the window but it looks secure in its frame. She follows the line of the gutter up the side of the building with her eyes. No gaps there either. She tips her head back to look at the roofline. That could be a dark spot or it could be a hole.

She goes back inside. “What’s upstairs?”

“Upstairs?” 

“Did you get animal control on the phone?”

“No one answered, I left a voicemail,” David says. “And texted Patrick that I was hearing the sounds of a wild animal trapped in the walls. Do you think rabies shots hurt?”

“Yeah,” Stevie says. “I heard they have to stick five needles in your butt.”

“Thank you,” David says. “I appreciate your loving concern during this trying time.” He taps his fingers on the counter. “I don’t know what’s upstairs. We use the basement for storage.”

“Is it empty?” she asks.

David shrugs. “Patrick’s been up there. I think it’s just attic.” At just that moment, his phone buzzes. “Yes?” David says. “Hello, yes. Yes.” He listens. “I see. All right. Thank you.” He hangs up and looks at Stevie with an aggrieved look on his face. “They said to call the fire department.”

“Do you want me to do it?” she asks.

“No, I can,” David says, and dials. “Yes, hello,” he says. “I’m hearing a scratching sound inside my wall. I think it might be an animal.” This is many degrees calmer than David sounded earlier. Stevie congratulates himself on being a positive influence. “All right,” he says. “Thank you.”

He turns to Stevie. “They’re going to send someone out. It’ll be maybe thirty minutes?” He elbows her. “You should stay. There might be a hot firefighter.”

Stevie makes a face. “I think it’s mainly Brett who works the day shift.”

“Ugh, what kind of name is that?” David says. “Brett.”

“He’s forty-five and not my type,” Stevie says. “I’m going to go over to the cafe.”

“Iced latte, please,” David says absently. He’s texting furiously. 

Stevie ignores him and leaves the shop. She didn’t even get her lotion. She’ll have to come back for it.

She returns twenty minutes later with an iced tea. There’s a fire truck parked outside the shop, and a couple of curious people lingering across the street. One of them calls out to her. “Is Rose Apothecary on fire?”

“Do you see any smoke?” Ghouls, she thinks. She pushes the door open.

There’s three more people in the store, pretending to shop while avidly listening to everything that’s going on. Not that there’s much to hear. David’s standing behind the counter, peering anxiously into the back room.

“What’s he doing?” Stevie asks.

“Thermal imaging,” David says. “Looking for heat signatures.”

“Wow,” Stevie says. “Are you okay?”

David leans forward and raises his eyebrows. “Yes.” So the firefighter is hot, then. Or, David thinks he’s hot. And since they both dated Jake, Stevie can trust his good taste. So it isn’t Brett. Interesting. “Patrick hasn’t texted me back.”

“Maybe he’s driving.”

The hot firefighter comes out of the back room. “Sorry,” he says. “I had to move your furniture over a bit, to get closer to the wall.” He is cute. Taller than David, darker blond than Jake. He has big hands with long fingers. 

She smiles at him. “Hi, I’m Stevie. I’m David’s friend, here for moral support.”

He shakes her hand. “Brian. Brett’s my uncle.” He has a nice smile, a little bit crooked, and a firm handshake.

She’s about to try to flirt, to ask him where he’s been keeping himself, when Patrick comes into the store. 

“David. Why is there a fire truck parked outside?” Patrick doesn’t do hysterical, pretty much ever. (The mountain of presents when he thought David was breaking up with him is maybe an exception.) But, he’s invested a lot of himself in David, in this business, and Stevie can hear the stress leaking through his voice. 

“Hello,” David says. “I’m fine, the store’s fine, and you clearly didn’t read your texts. I heard an animal in the walls. Brian is here to get it out.”

“Unfortunately, it seems to be moving around a bit,” Brian says. “I may need to make a small hole in the wall. If that’s all right.”

“Yes, fine,” Patrick says. He looks like he really wants to touch David and is only holding himself back from it because of all the other people there.

“I need to get some things from my truck,” Brian says. When Patrick doesn’t automatically move out of his way, he says, “Excuse me.”

“Oh, sorry!” Patrick moves, closer to David, and touches his arm. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” David says.

Patrick peers at him.

“Fine,” David says again.

Patrick looks at the busybodies in the shop. “Can I help you with anything?”

Stevie hides her grin and moves over to look at the lotions so no one thinks she’s laughing at them. She ought to buy her lotion before she forgets again. Despite Patrick’s shaming attempts, no one is leaving the store. 

Brian the firefighter comes back in, looking apologetic and carrying a chainsaw. Two more people follow him in.

“Oh my god,” David says.

“Do you need any help?” Patrick puts his hand on David’s arm, probably to prevent him from making the comment about horror movies and serial killers so clearly hovering on the tip of his tongue. She can guess what it would have been, but she still wants to hear it.

“Sure,” Brian says. Patrick follows him into the back.

Stevie puts her lotion on the counter. “It’s like the beginning of a horror movie,” she says, because she has no filter, and part of being a supportive best friend is saying what the other person is thinking.

“Yes,” David says.

“Here, hold it steady,” Brian says. “There!” 

The saw buzzes, shockingly loud indoors. The wall gives way with a crack. More buzzing, a few more cracks. None of the busybodies are even pretending to shop anymore.

“There,” Brian says. The sound of the chainsaw stops. 

“What is it?” Patrick asks.

“Aww,” Brian says. “Poor baby. How did you get in there?” 

Stevie gathers up a tea towel from the sale basket and goes into the back room. The makeout armchair is pushed into the center of the room, and there’s a definite hole in the wall behind it. The floor is gritty with plaster dust.

Brian is holding a tiny grey and white striped kitten.

Stevie channels David. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” David says. “What is it? Is it rabid? Is it a raccoon?”

“No,” Patrick says. He takes the tea towel from Stevie and the kitten from Brian. “It’s a kitten.”

The kitten fits in one of Patrick’s hands. It’s eyes are open. It licks its tiny pink nose with a tiny pink tongue.

“Oh my god,” David says. “I need to text Alexis.”

“Well,” Brian says.

“Thank you,” Patrick says. “We’ll give Ted a call, and I think we’ve got it from here?” He sounds deeply apprehensive. Stevie cannot recall a single story Patrick has ever told her about childhood pets. He doesn’t dislike animals--he pets Ted’s stray dogs willingly enough--but he’s never struck her as an animal person. And as for David--the idea of his reaction to a cat hooking its claws into one of his designer sweaters makes her want to shout with laughter.

“Yes, thank you,” David says. He’s staring at Patrick and the kitten.

Stevie walks Brian to the door, because someone in Rose Apothecary needs to remember their manners and it clearly isn’t going to be either of the proprietors.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do?” Brian asks.

“We’ve got it,” Stevie says. She smiles at him, a real smile and not her polite concierge one. Brian smiles back. She holds the door open for him, so he and his chainsaw can leave.

“Just a stray animal,” he calls to the busybodies across the street, and climbs back into the firetruck. Stevie watches as the truck pulls away and the loiterers take themselves off to the cafe. A couple of them have the grace to buy something before they leave, and Stevie smiles approvingly at their brown paper bags.

When she goes back into the store, David and Patrick have arranged the tea towel in a basket on the counter and the kitten in the basket, and the whole thing is so completely adorable that she has to pull out her phone and take a photo immediately.

“It’s so small,” she says.

“I know,” Patrick says.

“I think Ray is allergic to cats,” Stevie says.

“I did not know that,” Patrick says. He reaches out and strokes the kitten’s head with one finger. “That’s thinking a little far ahead right now. I’m waiting for David to find a cardboard box and poke holes in it, so I can bring the kitten to Ted and he can tell us how old it is and if it’s healthy.”

Stevie tilts her head closer to the kitten. “Is it purring?”

Patrick moves his finger so he’s petting the kitten under its chin. “Yes.” The kitten sounds like a tiny coffee grinder running at half speed.

David comes back with a cardboard box that previously held a shipment of mugs. He’s used scissors to punch air holes in the sides. Patrick lifts the kitten, tea towel and all, into the box.

“Its eyes are blue,” Stevie says. Is everyone this much of an idiot around small baby cats? It’s like she can feel herself losing brain cells and she doesn’t even care. She wants to bring it a saucer of warm milk and pet its tiny ears.

“I’ll take it,” David says.

“I’ll stay here,” Patrick says. He leans forward and kisses David quickly. If Stevie had been looking away, she would have missed it. It’s so domestic and comfortable that she wants to roll her eyes and mutter “Yuck!” like a sulky teenager.

David looks at her. “Are you coming?”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this.” Stevie tucks the bottle of lotion in her purse and opens the door for David.

It isn’t a long walk to the vet clinic, but David still freaks out halfway there. “What if I damage it?”

“I hardly think the owners will sue,” Stevie says. “It’s a kitten, David. If evolution hadn’t made them out of, like, rubber and sheer cussedness, the species would have never survived at all.” 

The kitten meows loudly and David nearly drops the box. 

“It’s probably just hungry,” she says.

Alexis must have called Ted’s receptionist, because he doesn’t look surprised to see them. He has impressive acne and a crooked front tooth and she can’t remember his name. He smiles at them. “You must be Alexis’s brother.”

“Yes,” David says. He collapses into a seat and holds the meowing box protectively on his lap.

The receptionist gets up. “Can I see?”

“I’m Stevie,” Stevie says. 

“I’m Daniel.” He’s heading towards the box with a determined look in his eyes. David lifts the flap. “Oh my god.”

David smiles, as proud as if he personally rescued the kitten from the wall. “I know,” he says.

“Ah, David.” Ted is wearing scrubs, and a stethoscope, and he looks so happy Stevie has to look away from him for a moment. How is this her life, surrounded by Roses who are gooey-ly, happily, romantically in love? Shut up, brain, Ted counts as a Rose now that he and Alexis are back together.

“He’s so small,” Daniel says.

Ted’s smile gets even wider. “Right this way,” he says to David.

The scale in which he weighs kittens (“and hamsters! And any other small pets!” Ted says cheerily when Stevie asks) has a round silver pan like a cake pan with very high sides. Ted opens the box and scoops out the kitten.

“Aren’t you a good cat?” he says. The kitten tries to climb out of the scale but it’s too little.

“Will its eyes stay blue?” Stevie asks.

“No, they’ll change in a couple weeks to its adult color,” Ted says. “Oh, 750 grams, well done, you!” to the kitten. He holds out his finger and the kitten rubs the side of its face against him. “So he’s probably about three weeks old,” Ted says.

“He?” Stevie asks.

“Yes, definitely,” Ted says. He looks at David. “Are you going to keep him?”

David looks suddenly uncertain. “We hadn’t talked about it. I mean, I’m not ready to be a parent!” He gestures to today’s sweater, which is black with tan stripes. “Claws, and litter boxes, and--responsibility.”

“I can find someone to foster him,” Ted says easily.

“What does he need?” Stevie asks. Someone has to be practical. Roses aren’t in the habit of it, and Patrick isn’t here.

“A litter box,” Ted says. “Litter, litter scoop. I can give you a stack of cardboard disposable ones that we keep around. Wet cat food. He’s little enough that he needs to be fed every five hours, including overnight. Dry cat food--he’s only just got his teeth in, so he won’t be very interested in it yet. Toys, too.”

David looks daunted. 

Stevie elbows him. “Dollarama.”

“Oh,” David says, like the idea of a dollar store is a revelation.

“Every five hours, including overnight,” Stevie says. She can see where this is going.

“You should keep him somewhere small, like a bathroom,” Ted says. “He might get lost or stuck in a bigger place. He’s a pretty confident little guy, but they tend to hide when they go somewhere new.”

“But that’s it?” David asks. “He’s healthy?”

Ted dons his stethoscope and solemnly listens to the kitten’s tiny kitten heart. He looks up. “Diarrhea is normal, too, for kittens when they get to a new place. Call me if it goes on for more than a couple of days, though.”

David nods. He’s looking shell-shocked.

“Okay,” Stevie says. She’s going to remember this all for later, including the look on David’s face. “Thanks, Ted.”

He smiles again. “Of course. Should I tell Alexis she’s getting a new roommate?”

“Don’t do that yet,” David says. “I need to talk to Patrick, first.”

Ted holds a finger to his lips. Stevie remembers that glowing-with-happiness-Ted is very, very close to supremely-annoying-Ted, and she needs to get out that office soon before his pure enthusiasm overwhelms her habitual cynicism. 

Ted loads the cat back into his makeshift cat carrier. “Hang on,” he says, and comes back with a bag that has three cardboard litter boxes, a small baggie of cat litter, and a few tins of cat food.

“How do you think he got in the wall?” Stevie asks.

“Sometimes mother cats will have babies in really stupid places, like attics or on top of roofs, and the babies will be playing around and end up climbing into the walls,” Ted says. “That’s the best I’ve got, anyway.” He grins. “Enjoy your day!”

“Oh, I am,” Stevie assures him. 

She insists on carrying the box back to the shop. The kitten shifts around inside, not meowing in distress, but walking around enough that she can feel the box tip and takes a tighter grip on it. “Did it grow? It feels heavier.”

“See,” David says. 

Patrick is sitting behind the counter when they get back. “Business is good today,” he says. “We sold two toilet plungers.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” David says. He goes to the back of the store and appears to be actually counting the number of toilet plungers on display. He makes a face when he realises Patrick wasn’t kidding. “We should find a kitten trapped in the wall every day.”

“So, I have bad news,” Patrick says. “I texted Ray. He’s definitely allergic to cats, and is very sorry that I won’t be able to bring this one into the house.”

David hums. “Alexis isn’t allergic.”

“Imagine your mother stepping on a kitten in the bathroom in the middle of the night,” Stevie says.

David shudders in horror. And, as she expected, turns to her. “What about you?”

“Every five hours, including overnight,” Stevie says.

“I’m sure Ted can find someone who will foster him,” Patrick says. “What about Roland? I bet Jocelyn would do it.”

“Jocelyn has a new baby,” Stevie says. “No.”

David is setting up the litter box behind the counter, taping the corners so the tabs stay folded in. He pours out a little bit of litter. 

Patrick already has a water bowl set out.

“Please,” David says.

Stevie opens the box and looks at the cat. The cat looks back at Stevie, all stripes and serious blue eyes. “I just have to keep him in my bathroom,” Stevie says. “And I’m only going to foster him for you until he doesn’t need to be fed overnight. And you’re keeping him here until closing.”

“Deal,” David says, and smiles.

After the shop closes, Patrick comes with her to help get the cat settled in her apartment. She’s definitely not imaging the way he blushes when she unlocks the door, and the way he carefully looks away from the bed.

“Was it good?” she asks.

“What?” Patrick carries the cat into the bathroom.

“You and David?” She follows him. He’s bent over so all she can see of his face is the tip of one red ear.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Stevie laughs. “Good answer.”

They set up the litter box and the food and water bowls, then let the cat out of the box. He sniffs cautiously at the base of the toilet.

“Thanks,” Patrick says. “Seriously.”

“You owe me,” Stevie says.

“I know,” he says, and then smiles his devastating, earnest Patrick smile. “Thank you.” 

The kitten climbs into the litter box and stretches out on top of a pile of clean litter. Stevie and Patrick look at each other and then back out of the bathroom and close the door.

After Patrick leaves, Stevie makes dinner and texts Jake. The announcement of her temporary kitten changes him from ‘probably coming over once he finishes turning this table leg’ to ‘definitely coming over omg do you have pictures.’ Stevie mentally thanks the kitten for getting her laid.

As the days go by, the kitten proves to be a remarkably chill roommate. He spends days at Rose Apothecary and nights in Stevie’s bathroom. She’s beginning to wake up before her alarm goes off to feed him.

Two weeks after the discovery of the kitten, she comes into the shop to find David sitting behind the register. The kitten is asleep on his shoulder.

“How did he get up there?” she asks.

David reaches up and very carefully pets him. “He climbed,” he says.

Stevie stares at him. Is this really David Rose? Has he been replaced by a pod person? The real David Rose wouldn’t be chill with a kitten climbing up his expensive sweater. As far as she knows, David is afraid of animals. But here he is with a small cat sleeping against his neck. “I came to pick up the toiletries, for the motel?”

David reaches up and unhooks the kitten. There’s a small pillow next to the cash register. It’s liberally dusted with white and grey hairs. David disappears into the back room, and comes back with a large box.

“Thanks,” Stevie says. The kitten yawns, displaying a pink mouth full of pointy white teeth. “Have you named him?”

David shakes his head.

“Well, are you keeping him?”

“Patrick says he could be a shop cat,” David says. “And keep the mice away.”

“Oh,” Stevie says. “And have you had much of a problem with mice?”

“No,” David says. “But we have a shop cat now.”

“Wow,” Stevie says.

David smiles. It’s such a Rose trait, she thinks. To be so full of drama and also so full of love. She hefts the box and walks out of the store, the bell dinging behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Kinks ["Phenomenal Cat"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upWnwfzA_i8).
> 
> Loosely based on a [true story](https://abcnews.go.com/Lifestyle/firefighters-rescue-kitten-stuck-inside-wall/story?id=46399002).
> 
> All feedback loved!


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